


Post-war takes it’s toll.

by TemperateWriting



Category: DreamSMP
Genre: Angst, Death, DreamSMP - Freeform, Fantasy AU, Just hurting sorry, L’manberg, Mage AU, No respawns, Some characters are just for one chapter don’t get your hopes up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 08:21:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26350027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TemperateWriting/pseuds/TemperateWriting
Summary: L’manberg has survived a war, so why was everything crumbling after their independence?============Mage AU I came up with. Not on the “official” timeline of mine, more of “If.. then..” when it came to deaths. Yes, this is a collection of deaths then followed by another chapter of everybody just grieving. If there’s any comfort it’s either to ruin it later or was unintentional. I’m sorry.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), platonic - Relationship
Comments: 16
Kudos: 112





	1. Author’s Note <3

... Hi! There’s going to be a ton of death & angst. That’s.. the whole point of this collection. I’ll write happy stuff in the future, I promise.   
  


This is a mage AU. As in, magic with elements. (Fire, Earth, Water, Wind, Light, etc etc..) Characters are of course from DreamSMP/L’manberg. I’ll try to leave some context when it comes to the magic used in notes.   
  


Each death will have two chapters. One being the actual death, and then a follow-up. Of course from a different POV.. 

Oh! These are my first ever writings I’ve put out publicly onto a site like this. I swear I’ll get better. Please excuse anything that seems OOC, Choppy, or just bad grammar/spelling. Upload dates will be choppy, schools & streams are a priority to me, haha.   
  
I’ll try to respond to questions! 

With that, Enjoy! (Or, don’t. Maybe that’s the point..) 


	2. Accidents happen, but where were you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What seems to be a skirmish goes horribly wrong in a matter of seconds. 
> 
> (Tubbo’s death.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! As promised, I’ll explain some bits, though I think I explain them later as well.. 
> 
> Tubbo is a Light & Healing mage. Due to his studies being split, both types of magic cannot be performed as effectively compared to if he just chose one. 
> 
> Skeppy is an Ice mage. 
> 
> Another key point is that casting magic does take some energy to do, so it can’t be a constant thing. More power mages take less of a toll, of course.

If battling was a dance, then Tubbo and Skeppy were about to hit the dance floor. 

It was a strange thought, though it only seemed to be true. As Tubbo pressed himself against the hilly region by the path, a horrible feeling gnawed at his gut. He always saw himself as a team player, fighting alongside friends. There, somebody had his back. There, his lack of magical offense didn’t matter too much, as long as he had some form of physical weapon. 

But here the brunette was, clutching his grip around the axe tighter. He was going to have to fight this mage, alone. Small bubbles of regret surfaced in his thoughts. Back when magical studies was top priority, Tubbo had chosen to enhance his skill of light, as well as doubling as a healing mage. This was primarily to balance out Tommy’s pursuit of learning fire magic. The amount of trouble his closest friend got into was almost humorous, if it wasn’t so dangerous at times. Cuts and bruises were easy to mend. Enchanted arrows, not as much. 

The reminder of the duel made him grimace. If he wasn’t there.. hell, if he was even a bit slower to respond, Tubbo didn’t want to think about the outcome. Though, if he had survived a Great War, then what was a small skirmish? 

Tubbo’s pounding heart almost distracted him as the expected figure appeared over the slight hill in the path. Something was spinning on his fingertips. A music disk, the one they needed. The inner rim was lined with green markings, glistening in the setting sun. Nobody was following him. That was good, Tommy was doing his part. 

The plan was to distract the tyrant, leaving Skeppy to return home without any sort of backup. If Dream were to ask about Tubbo’s location, he was netherite mining. All their gear was lost within the major war, anyways. 

The rhythmic footsteps along the wooden boardwalk grew closer and louder. If there was a time to back out, it would be now. Just lay low until the ice mage was well out of sight. It wasn’t even his music disk, anyways. 

It was Tommy’s. His best friend, one where he built his studies around just to ensure his safety. To give up now could be giving up their only chance to gain this possession back. One that has already been fought over before, one that was now well-written into history. Tommy valued this disk. Tubbo had to carry out the plan for him, if they lost this disk, it could easily be his fault.

On that note, he launched himself off of the minor cliff that dropped down onto the path. His axe was positioned above his head, eyes locked onto his opponent. It was a terrifying sight, a boy considered to be sweet and caring suddenly turned aggressive. 

It was so terrifying that Skeppy, who was probably having the scare of his life, casted magic in sudden defense. Disoriented, unfocused magic that erupted from the wooden path, rupturing a large part of it into splinters with a sickening crack. The spell was of course, in the form of ice. Magic-born ice with terribly sharp tips. 

Both of these things almost happened simultaneously, the mound of ice reaching out towards the younger boy. By the time the ice mage had noticed what magic he had released with a cry of shock, he was too late. 

It had pierced through fabric and flesh. 

The pitiful cry of Tubbo was drowned out with his own thoughts mixed with his racing heartbeat. Skeppy didn’t hear the teen’s raspy gasping moments later, either. He was already running, disk clutched in hand. 

~

Tubbo didn’t exactly know what he was feeling. Of course, searing pain at first, during the.. impact. It was quickly subdued by the freezing ice, or perhaps enhanced. It was all a daze of numbing cold, burning pain, and blood. 

Oh, fuck, the blood. The spike he had landed on had impaled him through his lower stomach, blood spilling onto the ground. What even was below him, anymore? It seemed like a blur despite it being perhaps only two feet away from his face. Instinctively, a large cloud of supportive magic was casted upon himself. 

It didn’t do much. The cause of the injury was there, he was stuck on this stupid death trap, alone. Shit, he was alone. Skeppy was gone, fled. 

Tubbo didn’t want to die alone. Not before the battle was over, not without Tommy even knowing. Butterflies swarmed his- no, better not to think about the scene that he was in fact creating. 

The young mage longed for his friend. Somebody to soothe him, tell him he was going to be alright, a lie or not. Even if he couldn’t help him physically.. 

Another cloud of healing magic was casted, smaller than the one before. Between blood loss and the use of his abilities, he was already growing dangerously tired. Was it even worth it to draw out his death anymore? Was Tommy even going to arrive?

Hell, It didn’t have to be Tommy. It could be Wilbur, their mentor figure throughout the war. Fundy, a great friend to fight beside. Even Eret, despite his betrayal, would have been enough in this moment, his final moments.. Somebody, anybody, would be alright. 

Even as Tubbo casted his final dose of supportive magic, nobody came. 

Even as he accepted his lonely fate, the ground stained with blood and tears, nobody came. 

Even as the dizzying comfort of death took its toll, nobody came. Nobody was there to comfort him when Tubbo died. Only afterwards, a few minutes after the final breath, did somebody arrive. A boy Tubbo’s age, shoulders outlined with a passionate red color, followed by the rest of their white shirt.

Tommy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was hard to write..  
> Working on follow-up chapter now. Some things that may seem confusing might just be cleared up. This was my first time writing angst, please tell me how I did..


	3. Emotional Currents.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy struggles with a loss of a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to explain here! Tried to get the chapter out ASAP

Tommy’s first clue wasn’t as he would expect. There wasn’t a beacon, a giant signal screaming, pleading for help. Even if there was, he wasn’t sure if he would see it. 

“Look, Dream.  _ I _ have leverage, you don’t. Shut up and listen to  _ me _ .” The blonde stated, pulling a bag closer to him. Inside, part of a horse hide was neatly folded up. It was Dream’s dead mount, Spirit. 

“Oh? I do wish to remind you, you dropped out of your studies to join that group of childish mages. You might have the leverage, but I have the power.” The older man responded, the expression on the mask turning humorous. 

It was an illusion of light magic, mostly for higher studies. One of the many reminders that he was much more skilled than anybody around him. Even Wilbur couldn’t be sure how many types of magic this man could wield. 

“Dream, You son-of-a-bitch, we have our independence, you technically  _ lost _ . Not so much of a power move.”

And so another argument started in front of the community house. It wasn’t uncommon for these things to happen, especially with Tommy. His personality fit his magic, burning with passion. Even as it turned off-topic with the yelling, he was careful to keep the bag clutched against his side. 

And that’s when the key warning came. Footsteps, panicked and heavy, coming from the direction of Tubbo’s old, burnt house. Burned within the last war by Sapnap, but that’s beside the point. 

Tommy was suddenly ready to run. He tried not to show it, of course, but it was part of a plan. Skeppy would come boohooing to Dream, no matter the outcome of what happened up the path. Tommy would then have to run, lose them if the two gave chase, and meet back up with Tubbo, who admittedly, had the more thrilling job. He’d rather the roles be switched, fighting rather negotiating and running, but anything else may have seemed suspicious. He was one to be within the action, in the middle of everything. Anything different than the setup they have now may have alerted the bastard of their plan. 

“Dream! Tommy..!” Skeppy called out as he arrived, his voice mostly held panic, but Tommy surely could pick up an underlying, sour tone when his name was mentioned. Understandable, though not his main focus. 

The disk was gone, but Skeppy wasn’t yelling at Tommy right off the bat. He and Tubbo rarely caused mischief apart, and never as seemingly violent as this. A slight twang of worry struck his chest, and while he was still ready to run at a moment’s notice, stayed to see this play out. 

“I didn’t mean to- I swear I didn’t, you have to come quick.” The panicked individual continued, looking Dream dead in the eyes.. or, where his eyes would be.

“Slow down- are you alright? What happened-“ 

“Tubbo he- I didn’t-“ 

One thing clicked with another. It was a slow, painful click. Perhaps he was being dramatic with the context clues he was given, but Tommy didn’t want to risk anything. He bolted off, down the wooden path. At this point he didn’t care who was following. Somewhere in the time of the exhausting sprint, he had lost the bag. Or perhaps he didn’t take it at all. That wasn’t his focus anymore. 

Punz’s house flew by on his left. The socializing club soon on his right. Up and over the tall hill, bursting through the front gates of the embassy, still sprinting as he crashed open the back gates. 

The sight was gruesome, Large clumps of ice stained red from blood, sharp tips reaching up towards the sky. 

Or, Tommy assumed that’s what the tips would look like. In their place layed a smaller brunette’s body, impaled. 

A strangled gasp escaped from Tommy’s throat as he quickly stumbled towards Tubbo, the weight from exhaustion and the scene already pressing down on him. This wasn’t real, it couldn’t be. He was asleep in a middle of a nightmare, he had to be. 

“Tub- Toby?” The words were muttered, filled with fear and sadness as he arrived at his best friend’s side, “Toby- no, no.. no.” 

No response. The color that once highlighted his skin was drained. His arms hanging limply against the frozen structure, only now turning slick as it melted away slowly. Hesitantly, Tommy placed a hand on Tubbo’s shoulder. 

It was shockingly cold. As much as he hated the thought, Tubbo was dead. He was dead, and Tommy didn’t even get to say goodbye. 

Everything crashed onto him at once. A crushing weight bringing him to his knees. Tommy wanted to turn away, to forget, to pretend it never happened. No matter how hard he tried, though, he found himself staring in disbelief. 

Tommy didn’t know when the tears had started, but he was now drowning in them. Soul-shaking sobs erupting from what felt like his chest. This went on for what seemed like forever, and not enough at the same time.

“Tobes.. Tobes..” Tommy didn’t know why he was still talking. Maybe to calm himself down, to grasp onto a train of thought. To jump onto that train, and ride it.. somewhere. Away from here. Away from this moment, away from the blood-stained wood, the melting ice. Away from L’Manberg and DreamSMP. Away from Dream himself, From George and Sapnap and-

Skeppy. That Motherfucker. 

Tommy, snapping his attention to behind him, saw both Dream and Skeppy standing there. He didn’t know how much they saw, and Tommy didn’t give a shit. When he got his hands on that sad excuse of an ice mage.. 

A thin trail of smoke started to trail from his fingertips as he shakily stood up again. Tears still stung his eyes as Tommy walked over, footsteps heavy, eyes locked onto the murderer. 

“I want you to tell me every last detail, you piece of horse shit, and don’t fucking lie to me.” Tommy faintly recalled that burning alive was one of the most painful things one could feel.

Skeppy stumbled with his words at first,before catching himself. The mage started again, trying to be more clear. 

“I didn’t- I didn’t mean to! I-I was walking past, disk in hand. He was waiting on top of the hill, It was an instinct, He- The axe-“ 

The constant stumbling was starting to tick Tommy off. A sudden burst of small flame unfolded from the veils of smoke. 

Dream had already caught onto Tommy’s idea of revenge, holding his own hand up, orbs of water circling around in his palm. 

“God fucking damn it, I will not have yet another death in my SMP, Tommy!” 

“Is that all this is to you?” The teenager shouted as he turned his gaze, gesturing to the mess behind him. He was, admittedly, on the verge of sobbing again. “Is this just another death? You motherfucker, I hope you both rot in fucking hell!” 

Tommy couldn’t see it, but Dream’s eyes were watering, too. 

~

That afternoon was long. The arguing lasted for too much time, and eventually neither side had any more words. Tommy was hoarse, Dream hurt, and Skeppy slightly concerned for his future. The ice had melted, and Tubbo’s body was soon after transported to L’manberg by nightfall. 

All Tommy could remember was the faces of his fellow L’manbergians as they realized what had happened. Dream was trying to calmly explain, questions came up, though the details weren’t important to him. Another wave of grief was already dragging him under, into its suffocating currents. 

Once he could have some alone time within the embassy, nobody saw him until the funeral. 

Nobody saw him for several days after, either. He wouldn’t answer the doors he had randomly installed late at night.

~

Crashing of waves met with a playful breeze, messing with Tommy’s hair. It’s been two weeks since Tubbo died. 

“But who’s counting?” He mumbled to himself, staring out into the endless sea. It could have been minutes or hours before Tommy stood back up.

When he finally did, his attention was turned to the tombstone with an expression full of grief. A mixture of red and white asters were planted right next to the marker. Wilbur said it was to attract bees. Tommy thinks they have a deeper meaning. 

He couldn’t help but to read the back of the tombstone again before his departure. 

_ “Some friends are worth fighting for.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah even I cried. Bonus points for knowing the flower meanings. This one was a bit longer, much prefer the ending to anything else.
> 
> Next chapter is coming out who knows when.


	4. Orange and blue flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some time after the death of Tubbo, the pet war starts. Fundy is determind to end the war.. “for justice”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I burned out really hard on this one. Sorry it took a while, I have a big project planned with this timeline that won’t be as angsty. Barely proof-read this one so fair warning with bad grammar and stuff that might not make sense.  
> (Edit; fixed chapter title.)

Fundy could only sit and wait. He was good at that sometimes. He could sit and wait through Tommy’s loud rambles, or Wilbur’s odd claims of him being the son of L’manberg. Today was different though, and much less verbal. The ginger knew that today, he would have to bring justice to one of the many tyrants. Just him against one of the main three dipshits, Sapnap. 

“I still don’t see the purpose of us being here so early, Fundy.” 

Ah, perhaps Jack would be there too, alongside Karl. Some referees and witnesses to make sure that nobody broke any guidelines. Wilbur already wasn’t too happy with his actions, but they both knew that it was Fundy’s war to fight. The least he could do to respect his president was to keep a clean, fair duel. 

“We’re not early, they’re uhm- late.” Confidence lacked in his tone, but either Jack shrugged it off or didn’t notice. 

It would be another twenty minutes before not two, but three figures appeared in the distance. Fundy swore under his breath, before jumping up to meet them. 

Sapnap and Karl were expected, but when he saw who the third figure was, suspicion arose. Why the fuck did George tag along?

“Glad you could make it..” Fundy began, “Sorry to ask this, but why is _he_ here? I thought we agreed on only bringing one other person, as a sort-of impartial referee.” 

Sapnap’s answer was short. “Healer. Just.. in case.” 

A lull of silence overcame them, and though nobody said it, they were all thinking the same thing. The L’manbergian didn’t ask for a further explanation, but rather waved the three of them towards the arena, where Jack Manifold was waiting patiently. 

The arena itself was, admittedly, impressive. Two major towers laid in the middle, their tops set alight with blue and orange flames. A long, winding vine connected them both. Ruins of what seemed like a house was located next to smaller stone pillars on one end. On the other, a segment of charred trees loomed over a small trench. 

The size of the arena was much like a football field, stretching outwards to provide a good amount of room for the duel. 

It was all built by Fundy, and that’s something that made him proud. He had to swallow that pride, though. This wasn’t a building compilation, it was a duel. 

“So, the duel.” Fundy started, bringing everybody back to a conversation. “I’d like to go over some rules, alright?” 

A short nod from Sapnap. Jack and Karl looked up to listen, while George was still gazing around. 

“Okay.. First off, no magic. This is a duel with weapons, so we’re both equipped evenly.” 

The SMP member made a short noise of indifference. 

“Next, this isn’t a fight to the death. We’re going until one can bring a blade to the other’s neck. Wounds will happen, I’m sure, but casualties won’t make any of this right..” 

“And the stakes?” Sapnap pipped in, eyes glinting. 

Of course he was interested in the stakes of the duel. With a sigh, Fundy answered. 

“I was getting to that. Best out of three. Listen, If I win, your pets will be returned. I will accept defeat, and admit you are, in fact, better than me. How’s that sound?” 

“Mm, I want the drip too.” 

Fundy paused. The drip was the name for his golden leggings, a piece of armor he valued greatly, despite most of it being for fun. Instead, he avoided the statement temporarily. 

“And what if I win, snapdipshit?” 

A small, wicked grin appeared on his rival. 

“If you win? I’ll give back the other pair of leggings, the one made of netherite. I will return Niki’s fish, and you can do whatever to my pets. Whatever pleases your.. horrible lifestyle.” 

“No, look. You’re the one who fucked up here.” Fundy started with a tone of anger. “I’m only here to represent justice.” 

“Justice is about to get it’s ass whooped today.” Sapnap interjected with a confident shrug. 

The bantering between the two went on, until they came to an agreement. If Fundy was to win, Sapnap would return the fish and armor, as well as rebuilding Fungi’s grave. 

Fungi, the fox Niki used to own. The fox that Sapnap himself had shot and killed, accident or not. He then robbed the grave, and furthermore exploded it right in front of the ginger. That was why Fundy was fighting today. That was why he was representing justice. 

If Sapnap was to win, Fundy would return the pets he had kept hostage in retaliation, as well as hand over one of his most prized possessions, the drip. 

Both sides were prideful and confident. Neither wanted to lose, neither could afford to lose. 

After going over the rules with the referees, (Karl needed _quite_ a bit of reminding.) Fundy and Sapnap chose opposite ends, walked over to the chests, and opened them. 

Both sides were identical. Basic iron armor, while not pristine and new, would do the job. A diamond sword and axe, for one to dual-wield or choose the weapon of their preference. Finally, a shield to top the set off. 

Funny enough, both opponents left the swords within the chest. Nerves started to kick in, but nevertheless, Fundy gave the thumbs up to Jack as he stood a pace away from the chest. Sapnap, in time, gave his signal to Karl. 

It was Jack who started them off. A paced countdown from ten, the other referee watching carefully. George sat upon the small half-wall that enclosed the arena. 

“Three, two.. one!” 

Both men advanced, eyes unwavering. It was a staring contest for far too long, waiting for the other one to make their move. 

It was Sapnap’s sudden burst of speed that took Fundy by alarm, axe meeting shield. With effort, he swung his axe in response, making an awful dent in Sapnap’s chestplate. 

It was hard to build momentum close-range, and good lord, was it hard to control that momentum once you have it. Fundy stumbled back, and with a kick from his opponent, found himself on the ground. A blade was being held to his neck as he hissed a curse. 

“Sapnap one, Fundy zero.” Karl called out. The blade was immediately pulled away. 

No wounds this time around, just bruises. Fundy had to try harder, he totally fucked this round up. The ice was thin, but he could bring this back.. He had to, for justice. 

After a small intermission, both sides were ready. 

The countdown happened again. 

“Three, two, one!” 

Fundy made sure to advance quicker this time. The longer they stared at each other, the easier it was for one to lose focus. 

Sapnap swung first. The ginger quickly jumped back, avoiding the axe. 

Just like that, the two opponents were going at it. Dodging axes, blocking swings, and hitting attacks. 

The battle swayed slightly off the center. Progressively, the rhythmic duel was located right by one of the major pillars. 

With a quick thrust of his shield, Fundy shoved Sapnap up against the structures. The blade of the axe at his neck. 

“Sapnap one, Fundy one.” Jack called out, only slightly amused. 

Sapnap was smirking when they split out for an intermission. There were minor injuries this time, the worst of it being a gash over Fundy’s forehead. 

He could pull this back, he could win for justice. For Niki and her pets. For his precious leggings. 

It wasn’t long before they were at it again. Fundy politely rejected George’s offer to mend any cuts. It just felt.. wrong. 

Both sides were ready. 

“Ten, nine,” 

Fundy had to win this. 

“Eight, seven,”

Niki was counting on it, he had to bring home the fish. To repair Fungi’s grave. 

“Six, five,”

As much as he hated to admit it, his pride was on the line, too. 

“Four, three,” 

I mean, who loses to snapdipshit? 

“Two.. one!” 

Both of them advanced. The stare downs had whittled away at this point; both of them wanted this to be over, to emerge victorious. Pets' lives were at stake. 

Fundy swung first, Sapnap leaning to the left to avoid the blade of the axe. The ginger already had his shield ready when Sapnap attempted to slice at his side. 

Hit. Dodge. Hit. Swing, block. The moves were irregular, yet somehow holding a rhythm. Sapnap wasn’t falling for the same trick twice, and Fundy was only getting more skilled as time went on.

.. and more tired. This final duel had already been going for fifteen minutes. Reaction times were slowing down. 

Fundy got another hit on Sapnap’s chestplate before both opponents took a step back to catch their breath, shields up in defense. Neither of them trusted the other. Fifteen minutes turned to twenty.

The ginger lifted a hand to wipe away blood and sweat from his face. That’s when Sapnap struck, using the blunt end of the axe to sweep him off his feet. Just because it wasn’t sharp didn’t mean that he wasn’t hurt as he fell to the ground with a thud, blade to his throat.

Fundy had lost. Two energized screams of victory sounded from the spectators, muffling out the groan of the third. A pit started to form in his stomach as the true shame overcame him. Even after his apparent win, Sapnap didn’t move the axe. He was showing off, of course. 

“You were a good opponent, Fundy. Didn’t expect that from a mage like you.”

Gears were turning in the SMP member's head. The blade didn’t move. Fear edged its way into Fundy’s worries. 

“Perhaps too good of an opponent.” The words were cold, slithering it’s way through gritted teeth like a snake. 

Somebody screamed a warning. Footsteps were already flying across the field alongside bolts of electricity. 

“Sapnap, what the h-“ 

Fundy didn’t get to hear the rest as the axe sliced right through his neck. The hum of death had claimed him, leaving chaos in the arena he built. 

Perhaps the hum was more like a buzz of a bee..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fundy with no head
> 
> Also should I upload the follow-up chapter or give time to let this sink in? :)


	5. King’s Reflection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world seemed to crumble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wtf I wanted to post this ealier but uh,, that stream..
> 
> Last real chapter then I’ll have a closing note

Another sickening thud echoed across L’manberg. Eret cringed slightly, this was the third time today a large branch of the redwoods had rotted to the point of breaking off from the trunk. More and more seemed to do so by the day, and he wouldn’t be surprised if they would have to be cut down altogether. 

It would be stupid to pretend he didn’t know why. They all knew, L’manbergians and SMP members. 

Fundy had nurtured those trees with his magic, thus why they sprung up from nowhere. Due to recent events, it wasn’t just the mages that were grieving. 

There was nothing they could do about it, other than to be extremely careful. A limb falling from such heights could easily injure an unexpecting bypasser. 

Eret scoffed softly at his mental note of “they.” It was mostly Wilbur, Niki, Tommy, and Jack Manifold who lived within L’manberg now. Eret left a long time ago, ruining his reputation with the nation in the major war. He definitely wasn’t allowed within the stone walls that he had, ironically, built. 

He built many things in this SMP. Was that something to be proud of? … Probably. 

Eret pulled his cloak around him as his head turned to the pair of tombstones. How the fuck did the front lawn of one of his towers become a graveyard to some of his closest friends?

Perhaps it started with the betrayal. The pitiful yelp that escaped Tubbo’s throat as the blinding pulse of light magic erupted, only to be cut off mere moments later as he passed out cold. Fundy’s cut-off screams as he noticed what was going on, and fled with the rest. (with the unconscious boy being carried out as well.)

… Was it bad not to regret it though? The TNT was still rigged. Tommy would have still lost the duel, and have to give up his disks. Sapnap would have still killed Fungi in some sort of freak accident, starting the pet war. 

It wasn’t his fault. Or, not with the betrayal. Did he fuck it up somewhere else on the timeline? Maybe he should have asked about the disks in those secret meetings with Tubbo, or check up on Fundy while he was building the arena. 

Eret shook himself. It didn’t matter now, the earth had claimed them. The earth will claim everything, at one point or another. It’s something you had to come to terms with when studying that field. 

He needed some sort of cleanse, something to bring his mind off of things. Grieving was healthy, but nonetheless sucked. A distraction could work, something to keep his mind busy.

With that thought, Eret found himself climbing down one of the many sets of ladders within the tower.

(Another  _ thud _ sound from L’manberg, fourth time today.)

The idea had already landed in his mind by the time he reached his chests. The smallest of the set creaked open, revealing simple tools. Flint and steel, iron sword, few loaves of bread. What he was looking for was neatly folded up in the corner. A world map. Or, a lot of the world. Nobody knew how big it was, exactly. Dream SMP and L’manberg combined was such a small area compared to the rest. Mountains, oceans, ravines, you name it, it was on the map. Even other SMPs, though they were miles out.

Eret pivoted to head back up the ladder after carefully placing it in his pocket. The wooden rungs creaked slightly, and he pulled himself up back onto the second layer. 

Something caught his eye. A figure lumbering up the slope. Blond hair, L’manberg outfit, flipping Eret off as soon as they locked eyes? Yup, that was Tommy alright. 

The eye contact and gesture was short-lived, as the teen turned to the direction of the graves. 

He too, had lost two of his closest friends. Tubbo was debatably, a closer friend to Tommy than Eret. The blond’s visits were still frequent when Fundy died. 

Maybe Tommy needed more of a cleanse than Eret. He was, after all, still a teenager.

The king tapped his pocket gently, a small grin forming. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Closing note coming soon, this timeline isn’t exactly over.


	6. Closing note <3

LMAO AFTER TODAY’S STREAM THIS TIMELINE IS _FUCKED_

uh, anyways, I do have a big project coming up! It’s a continuation of this timeline but with a bit more comfort. Might take a while due to the drama on the smp, and god damn, is that some angst material.   
  


Thank you for reading!! I’m unsure how good I did but thank you all for the kudos and support! 


End file.
